The hot jet of air catches by surprise, and he freezes.

It feels... familiar, in an unpleasant way.

His shoulders hunch, tense, and he recalls --

Dark scales, a cave, the sound of claws on stone.

The voice snaps him out of it.

His name?

Anduin takes a few steadying breaths, turns slowly. The creature he looks at knows him, yet Anduin himself cannot say it is immediately familiar. Last he Wrathion, after all, he was much smaller -- smaller enough to be far less threatening in his true form.

Yet still.

Anduin's brow furrows slowly, fingers loosening a little on his blanket as he takes him in. A black dragon, who calls him by his name. The gold rings about his horns. Something --

"Wrathion?"